


Least Expected

by aban_asaara



Series: Strange Places: Fenris and Amabel Hawke [15]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:34:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22361914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aban_asaara/pseuds/aban_asaara
Summary: A pregnant Hawke shows up at Skyhold; Fenris is the happiest man alive, Cassandra is simultaneously delighted and unimpressed, and Varric is too old for this shit.
Relationships: Fenris/Female Hawke
Series: Strange Places: Fenris and Amabel Hawke [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/775176
Comments: 10
Kudos: 56





	Least Expected

**Author's Note:**

> I _still_ haven’t worked out the Inquisition timeline of Amabel’s canon, but considering she and Fenris come down with some intense baby fever after settling down in Rivain, this seems a likely scenario. :D

Varric expects Hawke to pull out a pillow from under her cloak and burst out laughing right up to the moment she throws her arms around his neck: her cheek is cold against his from the Frostback winds, and under the tang of leather, winter, and horse he smells something sweet and delicate, and so familiar it _hurts_.

But then the firm round belly under her dress presses up against him, and Varric is overcome by the keen, undeniable awareness that there’s something _alive_ in there.

“Maker’s Breath,” he hears himself say, blinking up at her. “You’ve really let yourself go, Hawke.”

She laughs as she pats her belly, cheeks pink, eyes bright. “Have I ever. I get to eat like a bear in the Hinterlands and people think it’s endearing.” She straightens up and stretches, hands on the small of her back, and that belly seems to jump out at him. “Bela’s taking bets as to whether it will grow up ‘charmingly clever’ or ‘disarmingly handsome’, if you want in on that.”

Varric is still trying to wrap his head around the half-elf half-mage bump staring him in the face when Fenris comes up behind her, having handed Master Dennet the horse’s bridle. “Elf,” Varric greets him, blinking up at the baby daddy—and there’s a thought he wasn’t planning on having, ever. “I see congratulations are in order.”

Fenris smiles, but the smile is for Hawke, all pride and adoration. “Thank you,” he says, then runs a hand through his wind-tangled hair. “Apologies for keeping you in the dark. We thought it safer not to say anything in letters.”

“You guys robbed me of one hell of an ending for _Tale of the Champion_ , you know that? Although if you haven’t picked names yet, ‘Varric Hawke’ has a certain ring to it,” he finishes, breaking into a grin.

Hawke laughs—and Maker but Varric missed that laugh—while the elf flicks one dark eyebrow. “Over my dead body, dwarf,” he retorts, but he’s still smiling that expansive smile, his hand running up and down Hawke’s back with yearslong ease. “No child of mine will be named after a smut author.”

Varric splays one hand over his heart and winces. “An _award-winning_ smut author, I’ll have you know,” he points out, earning himself a grin and an eyeroll.

You’d think nothing would surprise Varric anymore, but even the demon-shitting hole in the sky and the ancient darkspawn magister trying to subjugate Thedas don’t seem half as weird as Fenris— _Fenris_ , the angsty porcupine who rips still-beating hearts and eats slavers for breakfast with a pinch of cinnamon—quite literally beaming while standing next to a pregnant Hawke.

A very, _very_ pregnant Hawke at that.

She points over her shoulder towards the Keep rising before the pale ragged peaks of the Frostbacks. “I’d love to catch up some more, but I _really_ need to talk to a man about a mabari first. Feels like there’s one sitting on my bladder right now.”

Varric can feel Seeker Pentaghast’s glare boring holes into the back of his skull as he watches them head towards the Keep, though she at least has the decency of waiting till Ruffles has ushered them inside before pouncing on him. “ _Varric_ ,” she drawls threateningly, arms crossed over her breastplate.

At the end of the cobbled path, Curly attempts to hide behind a sapling when he spots Hawke, but too late: she calls out his name and waves at him with a flourish. Varric runs a hand down his face and blows out a deep breath. “Seeker, I swear if I’d known, she wouldn’t be here right now.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments welcome and appreciated! <3 Come say hello on [Tumblr](https://aban-asaara.tumblr.com/)!


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